My Angel
by purple pear 87
Summary: Bill can't believe the bank ever hired Fleur. She's silly, flirtatious, and doesn't have an ounce of sense. But when they're sent to Egypt together, he's forced to rethink his opinions on her.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

He didn't understand why, but he hated her. Hated everything about her- from the stupid way she acted, to the way she flirted with other men, them hanging onto her every word like pearls dropping from her perfect mouth.

And yet she fascinated him, more than any other person had before. Perhaps it was the Veela in her. But he was never romantically interested in her- God, no, he had _taste_, believe it or not. But he was curious about her. He knew she wasn't as shallow as she had seemed sometimes. Just the other day he had walked in to borrow a key she had, and seen her crying, cradling a small, broken body of a robin in her hands that she must have found outside the window. She had wiped her tears away quickly, placing the dead bird in her robes pocket gently and answered him curtly. But when he left, key dangling from his fingers, he saw her look into her pockets, stroking the soft feathers with one slim finger.

And it was torture, having to work in the office across from hers, having to hear her perfectly accented voice answer the telephone, her fingers tapping away on her keyboard, hearing her laughing and flirting with potential suitors who queued by her door. In fact, it irritated him so much he had developed the habit of slamming his door shut, or else yelling from his chair when he was too lazy to get up, for her to shut up, for the sake of all bloody things holy.

Bill sighed, leaning back in his office chair, folding his hands behind his head and gazing up at the ceiling magicked to whatever the weather was, taken from the Great Hall at his old school. It was a gloomy day, with dark clouds threatening to burst, but never acting upon it. He strummed his fingers irritably on his desktop, thinking. He really needed to get out of these bloody cubicles. They were slowly draining all the cheerfulness out of him. Either that or he would have to go visit his family for the weekend. Fred and George teasing would put him out of his mood.

The door swung open without a knock. He jerked around, glowering sullenly, freezing when he saw who it was. Fleur, her silvery blond hair tied gracefully back with an ice blue ribbon, her heart-shaped face pale and exhausted, her violet eyes pleading. "Bill," she said tiredly. "Mister Cuthbert would like to see you."

He sighed, running a hand through his long red hair and getting out of his chair. "What does he want?" He asked sourly, following her out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind them. She shrugged, moving down the hall in front of him, and he watched her delicate body moving with the lithe and grace of a dancer, her hair swinging behind her. "I don't know," she said, her voice no more than a sigh, but he caught it all the same. "But he wants to talk to both of us."

"What's wrong with _you?_" he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You look exhausted." She sighed again, turning her face slightly to shoot him an apologetic and breathtaking smile. "I've been at the bank since six this morning. They needed extra help- all the 'Ogwarts children are coming to get their gold."  
He rolled his eyes. Her complaining wasn't going to gain her any sympathy- at least not from him. He'd been at this job for five years now, and was completely used to the normal end-of-summer rush. Fleur had started this job a few months ago, and everything was new to her. Even then, he didn't know why she'd joined Gringotts. It didn't seem like her area of expertise.

They made their way to the manager's office in silence, where Fleur extended her arm and rapped firmly on the wooden door, crossing her arms on her chest and waiting until the door swung open.

"Ah," Mr. Cuthbert, the bank's manager said. "Mr. Weasley. Miss Delacour. Please, come in."

Bill followed her inside, sitting down smoothly in one of the two plush red chairs opposite Mr. Cuthbert's desk. The latter sat down across from them, folding his hands on his robust stomach, his moustache twitching slightly. Fleur waited demurely, her ankles crossed, her hands resting delicately on her knees.

"What is it, sir?" Bill asked, trying to sound respectful, but his impatience showing through anyway. Cuthbert smiled over at him, seeming to find it amusing rather than irritating. "Patience, Weasley," he said rebukingly. "Well, I've been looking at both of your records, and it seems that both of you have been doing extremely well in your work."

Bill looked sideways at Fleur. _She'd_ been doing well? All she ever did was chat, or so it seemed to him. She glanced at him, her cheeks turning a soft pink under his stare, and turned quickly away. Bill cleared his throat and looked back at Cuthbert. "So, what are you saying, sir?"

Cuthbert chuckled. "What I'm saying, Weasley, is that I think you should have an assignment." Bill's pulse quickened. _Finally_. Nothing raised his spirits more than going to scope out treasure to collect for the bank. A smile came onto his faces. "Where to?"

"Egypt." He waved his wand carelessly, and a paper came fluttering through the air toward him, landing on the desk in front of him. He turned it around, so that Bill could see a realistic looking map of an Egyptian town. He pointed a stubby finger at a point. "This is where we think buried treasure is hidden," he said seriously. "We have some very reliable sources, and it just might be the biggest collecting job Gringotts has done." He waved his wand again, and plane tickets flew through the air to land in his outstretched hand. "You'll be there for two months, unless you find the treasure sooner. These should work for both of you."

"_Both _of us?" He asked disbelievingly, turning to stare at Fleur. Could he really be expected to get along with this girl for two whole months? Fleur seemed to shrink away from his scowl. Cuthbert clucked disapprovingly. "Of course both of you, Weasley! What did you expect? You're one of the best workers I have, even though you've only been here for four years. Miss Delacour is new, and shows promise. You can show her how to do the job properly."

Bill suppressed a groan. Just his luck, to get paired with the co-worker he disliked the most. Fleur was still gazing at Cuthbert. "Excuse me, sir," she said hesitantly. "But why can't we just apparate? It would be quicker, and it would save money."

Cuthbert nodded reassuringly, throwing a smug look at Bill. "Of course it would, but we're hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible. There's no need for all of Egypt to find out about wizards from you too. And it will be a wonderful opportunity for you to learn about Muggles."

Bill tried not to laugh. He knew all about Muggle transport, thanks to his father. Arthur Weasley was the biggest Muggle fanatic he had ever known, and he knew some kooky ones in the Muggle Relations offices.

Cuthbert nodded solemnly, possibly taking Bill's smile as agreement. "Good. Here you are then," he presented a ticket to each of them. "You leave on the second of September, at the London airport. I hope you'll go over hotel arrangements and travel plans before then. Best of luck to you."

He shook Bill's hand, nodded to Fleur, and got to his feet, holding the door open. Bill rose to his feet as well, shrugging his hands into his pockets again and hunching his shoulders to duck out from the room, Fleur behind him, but not daring to say anything.

**A/N- thank you for reading! PLEASE rate and review! I'll update as soon as I get five . . . Heck, no, I'm going to update even if I get no reviewers. I'm addicted. Just keep looking for more updates. I've got surprises up my sleeves. (insert evil author laugh.) Um. Well. Please review?**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**A/N- does anybody know how to spell Fleur's last name? Delacour? DeLacour? Please review and tell me! Oh, and I know Fleur is supposed to have a French accent, but it's very difficult to write one when she's a main character. So you can pretend, right? I mean, nobody would be on here if they had no imagination?**

In no time at all, it seemed, Bill was packing for Egypt- light, airy clothes, hiking boots and sunscreen- and driving in his broken-down Muggle car down to the London airport, where he parked in front of the terminal. He could see Fleur waiting for him, her arms crossed against her chest, her long hair attracting far more attention than necessary, watching him. She was dressed more casually today, wearing a light blue tee shirt and faded blue jeans. He tried not to notice as he pulled his bag out of the trunk and locked the doors behind him.

He made his way over to her, feeling like his feet were twice their normal size as she continued to watch him. He finally reached her, and shifted his bag into the other hand. She arched her eyebrow, smirking slightly. "I like your car."

He flushed slightly, detecting her sarcasm. "Thanks," he said shortly, taking his ticket out of his pocket and walking into the airport. The doors slid open without anybody touching them, and he walked through them, waiting for Fleur to catch up with him. She didn't. He turned around. She was outside the doors, staring at them with a puzzled and determined expression, looking slightly frightened.

"What's controlling them?" She whispered, looking up at him. "Is there a wizard sitting by the doors to open them for us?"

Bill fought the urge to laugh. "It's Muggle science," he explained, knowing all about it from his father. "They're called 'automatic doors'."

She stepped through them, looking fascinated as they slid shut behind her. "I can't believe some of the things Muggles come up with."

He snickered slightly, and was impressed that he had enough control not to roll around on the floor. They walked over to the long line by the baggage check in. Fleur was looking around with interest, taking in every different Muggle thing around her with wide violet eyes.

Bill had never been flying before. The idea rather scared him. Muggles were capable, yes, but could you really trust a hunk of metal to stay up in the air with hundreds of people inside it? Every so often in the Muggle newspaper his father would get, the details of a rather horrific airplane crash was plastered across the front page, complete with gory pictures, all frozen.

"So which terminal are we going in?" Fleur asked, making her way over to a map of the airport and peering intently at the small print. "Merlin, they couldn't make this harder to understand if they tried."

Bill rolled his eyes and came up behind her, gazing over her shoulder. "It's easy. We're here, see?" He showed her a red x by the entrance. "We want to be at, uh . ." he looked down at the ticket clutched in his hand and straightened it out automatically. He squinted down at the print. "Um, do you know where we're supposed to be?" He asked sheepishly. Fleur snorted and grabbed the ticket. "Terminal E," she said, smirking. "Easy, isn't it?"

He flushed, choosing to ignore her. "All right. So all we have to do is get there." He pointed a dark grey square on the opposite side of the airport. "How hard can it be?"

*

The dreaded last words. After half an hour of searching, they were hopelessly, terribly lost in the maze of the airport. After going around a baggage carousel for what Fleur sweared was the hundredth time, she finally sank down onto a bench, resting her head in her hands.

"We'll never get there in time," she moaned, as Bill watched her. "We'll have to fly. And I _hate _flying!"

Bill sat down next to her and tried to be comforting without actually touching her. "Fleur. It'll be all right," he said reassuringly. "We still have twenty minutes. We can just ask someone. See-" A middle aged man with greying hair walked by, staring ahead. "Excuse me, sir?" Bill called, and he stopped, looking curiously at Bill, his eyes sliding from him to Fleur's upturned face, where his eyes glazed over, and his mouth fell open.

"Sir?" Bill repeated, trying to ignore this, but clenching his fists. "We have a question for you."

"Yes?" He breathed, his eyes still firmly fixed on Fleur's beautiful heart-shaped face. She glanced at Bill and grinned, then stood up, the man's eyes following her every movement. "We were wondering," she said slowly, as if talking to the mentally impaired. "If you could show us to terminal E?"

He nodded, not bothering to conceal his gaping and gestured for them to follow him. They did so, Fleur stifling a giggle while Bill glowered. He led them across the wide open space, down a flight of moving stairs that made Fleur clench her hands together so tightly her knuckles turned white, and across a hall of windows. Finally, they saw a small, black lettered sign reading, 'terminal E'. Fleur thanked the man, who seemed unwilling to leave, but took the hint, and walked away, staring over his shoulder.

Fleur sighed, plopping down in a black chair and pulling a book out of her bag. Bill sat down a few seats away, glancing at the title. _Pride and Prejudice_, by Jane Austen. He had never seen that book before.

"Is that a Muggle book?" He asked, trying to break the silence, while really curious. "Is it any good?"

Fleur looked up distractedly and smiled. "It's a Muggle classic- written in the late seventeen hundreds. It's a romantic novel- about two people that hate each other, and end up falling in love."

Bill took the book from her and scanned the page. His mind drew a blank. Small, cramped print, the few sentences he could read made no sense at all. "And you like this?"

She nodded enthusiastically, trying not to laugh as she snatched the book back. "Some of us," she said snidely. "Took Muggle studies at school. And Beauxbatons had us read old English Muggle books. They're really fascinating- they had a whole different outlook on what women should do with their lives back then."

Bill scowled at the slight. "Such as what?"

She played with the pages between her long fingers. "They thought girls should be demure and silent, play the piano perfectly, sew with their spare time and marry early. I'm so glad the Wizarding World never had any of that rubbish."

"Not exactly rubbish," Bill muttered, thinking of how much better it would be if his little sister, Ginny, was quiet and demure. Somehow he couldn't imagine that, she was such a loud, stubborn girl. Fleur, however, caught his words and glowered at him, swinging her head around to bury her delicate nose back in her back.

*

They boarded the plane a couple minutes later, showing their tickets and getting into a long tunnel, walking down until they reached the end of it. Bill followed Fleur, until they got to a small doorway. He swallowed. This was it. A Muggle woman with smoothed back hair and flawlessly applied makeup smiled warmly at them, Bill in particular, and ushered them through. They took the first row of seats they saw, in order to make a quick escape if the plane crashed.

People, all Muggles, filed into the airplane, carrying all sorts of things- large bags, umbrellas, and even a bird cage, which caught Bill around the head. He winced, his eyes watering and rubbed the spot above his ear vigorously, catching Fleur's laughing eyes. He frowned at her.

The stewardess came down the aisle, her hand outstretched for the tickets. He gave her both of them, ignoring her as she shot a smile at him and scanned the tickets. Her forehead puckered. "This isn't where it says you sit, sir?"

He twisted around to look at the ticket along with her. "There's assigned seating?"

It looked as if the stewardess was trying not to roll her eyes. "Of course, sir. If you follow me, I'll take you to your seats." She started off. Bill looked at Fleur, who shrugged and got to her feet, waiting for him to leave before she could. They walked after the stewardess, past four rows of large, cushy seats, where she pushed aside a curtain. There was a whole sea of small, grey plush seats filled with people stretched out in front of them. Bill gulped. He'd never been much claustrophobic, but this was a little but too much.

"You're right here," the stewardess said, finally stopping toward the end of the plane, where there was an empty row of seats. Bill got in first, sliding down to the minuscule window which looked out onto the large concrete lot, leaning his head against the headrest and closing his eyes. Fleur got in after him, tucking her bag neatly under her seat and relaxing against the back of the chair, then leaping up, wincing. "What is that?" She yelped, holding up the metal head of the seatbelt that she had obviously sat down hard on.

Bill opened his eyes and looked around, then had to bit down on his lip not to laugh. "It's a seat belt," he explained, taking his own and showing her how to clip it with the other piece and tighten it around his waist. "It keeps you safe in case the plane . . . in case it crashes." He tried not to think about that.

"Don't they have cushioning charms?" she grumbled, clicking her seat belt into place and looking down. The strap was so big it could have fit four of her in the same seat. "Who sat here last time?" She muttered, tightening the strap until it was close against her small waist . . . Bill looked away, out the window.

The stewardess that had helped them went to the front of the plane, saying something that seemed important, but they were too far away from her to hear her.

After a while that seemed far too long, he felt a rumble of an engine, and the plane began to move. He clutched the arm rests tightly as it rolled slowly down the runway, picking up speed gradually, until all the scenery outside the window was whizzing past. He felt the plane lift a few inches into the air, before clunking back against the concrete. It happened twice more, before it tilted upwards, the front wheels in midair, and then the entire plane was up in the air. Bill watched the ground and the planes around them growing smaller, and smaller, until all he could see was grey and the green grass surrounding it.

He gulped, feeling slightly dizzy and turned away from the window. Fleur looked terrified, staring out the empty row's window across the aisle. She turned to look at Bill, and he knew what she was thinking. How was a piece of Muggle technology going to keep them afloat when they hadn't even noticed there were wizards among them?

After a few minutes of rising higher, without any incidents, Fleur began to regain more color in her already pale skin, looking around her seat curiously, poking the small indents in the plastic and pressing any buttons. She turned on some lights overhead, turning the air on the vents on full blast, both of which were, conveniently, pointing at Bill to blow his hair all over. She laughed at this, examining a small red button above her.

"What do you think this does?" She asked him, her finger hovering over it. "Nothing bad, right?"

"Fleur, no!" he yelled, but it was too late. Her finger had darted in and pressed it. For a split second, nothing happened, but then a small compartment overhead opened up, and out dropped two oxygen masks, hovering from the ceiling by a small cord. She squealed, recoiling.

"What are those?" she asked, her voice shaking, and pointed to them. Bill could hardly speak from laughing. "Oxygen masks . . ." he gasped, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "In case . . . There's an air leak . . . And we can't breathe up in the atmosphere."

She glared at him, but then reluctantly started laughing with him. They kept laughing until the stewardess, making her way down the aisle to ask for drink orders, found them, the oxygen masks dangling down and started scolding.

**A/N- hi! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed! Please, learn from them, guys, and review? It's not very difficult, and completely free . . . sigh. I'm also working on another story, so it'll be hard to update every day, but I'll do a chapter of that story, then a chapter of this story. Fleur can get up to a lot of trouble in an airport, can't she? :)**


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